


My Mark On You

by digthewriter



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Oral Sex, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digthewriter/pseuds/digthewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Gwaine's a tattoo artist and Mordred is his canvas. (Background: Merlin/Arthur)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Mark On You

He took in a deep breath—starting with the needle, carefully tracing the lines he’d just drawn on Mordred’s body. 

“Will you ease up?” Mordred asked, almost chuckling. “You’re making me nervous.” 

“I am eased up,” Gwaine replied. He stopped for a second to scowl at his client, his muse, his friend. Also...his crush. Except, Mordred probably had no idea Gwaine was mad over him. 

They were in the shop late at night; everyone else had left. 

The buzzing sound echoed, and Gwaine concentrated, swiping the blood, focusing in again, setting the rhythm of the machine to make sure he pushed in hard enough, but not too much that he’d actually hurt. 

Sure, he was nervous, but he was also a professional. He’d tattooed thousands of people in the last ten years—he could do this in his sleep. It was just…Mordred smelled _so_ good. Gwaine’s cock, which was already half-hard because his work turned him on, was fully erect because of Mordred. That’s who he was doing this to. The one who helped him come up with the most interesting ideas and designs and then let Gwaine use his body as a canvas. 

He looked up for a second and found Mordred with his head tilted back, eyes closed, biting his lower lip. 

“Is it hurting?” 

He was working on Mordred’s right rib—the spot could be sensitive, but Mordred had endured worse. So far, his shin had been most painful. 

“Uh-uh.” Mordred shook his head, giving a tentative smile. “I love the pressure.” 

_Fuck_. Gwaine released a low groan; his cock twitched with the thought of what kinds of pressures Mordred appreciated, and how Gwaine’d love to provide them. 

“I…uh…do you wanna take a break?” 

Mordred immediately opened his eyes and looked up at him. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“What? No!” Gwaine turned the machine off and put the needle down. “I just…need some water.” 

“Okay, sure.” 

“Do you want some? Don't get up. Just lay right there…” 

Mordred gave him a smirk. “Like having me on my back, do you?” 

Gwaine scowled at him before walking away. He quickly adjusted his erection in his trousers so he could walk better and went to the small fridge behind the till where Merlin usually kept his Pepsis and bottled waters, grabbing two. When he went back, he saw Mordred trying to take a picture of the half-done artwork with his phone. 

“You’re always so impatient,” Gwaine said, taking the phone away from Mordred. “You’ll see it when it’s ready.”

“Fine,” Mordred growled, taking the water. “I’ll just be here then. Compliant. Ready for your mark on me.” 

“You say it like I'm forcing you,” Gwaine said, drinking his water. He could do this. He loved bantering with Mordred, because then they were just a couple of friends, and Gwaine could easily forget about his feelings. It’s usually the quiet that killed him. _And_ being so close to Mordred’s body. He was worried for the future, when he was to tattoo Mordred’s upper legs, his inner thighs—

“Lost in thought again, I see.” Mordred pushed Gwaine’s leg with his toe. “If you’re not in the mood—”

“No, that’s not it.” Gwaine settled on the chair next to Mordred, getting ready for the second round. “Now, shut up, and stay still.” 

An hour later, he was done. He’d let Mordred wait for ten days before adding in the colour—finalising the design so it could blend with the artwork on Mordred’s back.

Gwaine was very lucky. Mordred inspired his abstract design work, the kinds of stuff no one actually wanted on their body, but then he always wanted it on him. He’d always said he loved being a unique piece of art, and Gwaine loved that about him. Gwaine liked knowing there was a part of him on Mordred, and it was going to be there—forever. 

“Oh, I love it!” Mordred exclaimed. 

“Are you sure, I can work on the details later, and show you what—”

“When was the last time I needed to approve something, Gwaine. I told you. I’m in this. God, it’s beautiful. It’s so fucking hot.” 

Gwaine chuckled lightly and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he slowly cleaned the tattoo before putting on the plastic wrapping. He knew he didn’t need to tell Mordred about how to take care of it. 

“Fucking hell, I can’t wait to show it off. Bet I’d get like a million phone-numbers. I always do whenever I show your art to other—”

“You do?” Gwaine asked, surprised. “Never seen you on a date—”

Mordred rolled his eyes. “Just because I get phone-numbers doesn’t mean I call them. Not interested in any of those blokes.” 

“You’re not?” Gwaine asked. He was busy cleaning up the supplies so he didn’t look up at Mordred, who'd now sat up on the table. 

“Hey. Come here,” Mordred said, pulling on Gwaine’s arm. “You know I’m not, Gwaine. I only belong to my artist.” 

“Mordre—”

Mordred wrapped his leg around Gwaine, pulling him closer. Gwaine’s traitorous cock was still more than half-hard; it pressed against Mordred’s stomach. He’d no idea if Mordred could feel it, or what he’d think about it. 

“I can’t wait anymore, Gwaine.” 

“What do you mean?” Gwaine asked, gulping nervously.

“I know you want me…” Mordred pressed the palm of his hand against Gwaine’s cock as he looked up at him, smiling. “I want you, too. Please.” 

“Lie back,” Gwaine said, his voice coming out husky. “You can’t do much with a fresh tattoo on your side.” As Mordred settled back on the table, Gwaine opened Mordred's trousers, bringing out his impressive cock. He licked the head as Mordred gasped under him. 

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured against Mordred.

Finally, Gwaine tasted his muse for the first time. 

Mordred made the most delicious sounds. As he came, Gwaine managed to spill in his own pants, barely putting a hand on himself.


End file.
